


Rorqual

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-04
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-12-23 16:53:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11993988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Sailing to Valinor, Lindir doesn’t understand the ocean.





	Rorqual

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Lord of the Rings or The Silmarillion or The Hobbit or any of their contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

The sky is bluer than it’s ever been, bright and beautiful, and white clouds dance across it clear to the horizon. Some days, Lindir stands at the railing and stares at it all—at the configurations above him, at the swirl of the waves below, and at the pale birds that flock about their sails.

Other days, the boundless space all around him is an irksome change, and he prefers to stay below deck, writing or knitting or plucking at his harp. The best days are those that his lord stays with him, and he can rest on Elrond’s broad shoulder to soak in all the comfort of a loved one. When he looks into Elrond’s eyes, he knows he made the right decision. Perhaps Valinor will be as wondrous as they say, or perhaps his heart will mourn for Middle Earth and miss the soil on which he was born. Neither outcome would affect the truth that this is right for him, because _Elrond_ is right for him, and he couldn’t imagine letting his beloved lord sail alone. 

He moves towards Elrond now, drifting idly across the deck with his eyes lost in the water—there is a part of him that _yearns_ for it, and Mithrandir tells him that’s true for all his kind. Lindir never knew it until now. He’d never wanted for anything but his lord’s love. Yet there’s something about the gentle spray against the hull that captivates him, and it slows his steps—he thinks, perhaps, that he’ll write a song about it. 

Then his steps falter, and he glances up, for the water has grown darker as though cast in shadow, but none of the birds above have wings nearly large enough to cover what he saw. Lindir’s hands grip the wooden railing, and he leans a little over, peering down, but the darkness grows, expanding in both width and length, until it seems a great island has risen right beneath them. Lindir’s breath catches at the sight, heart hammering far quicker. Something parts the sea only an arm’s length from the hull, and though it’s small and thin, Lindir knows it most be only the very tip of something utterly _enormous_.

His head freezes with fear, and without a second thought, Lindir rips away from the railing, hurrying across the deck towards the stern, where Elrond stands alone, watching the waves before them. For once, Lindir doesn’t pause to admire how handsome he looks in the morning light, even with his dark hair flowing free in the wind and his skin kissed by the sun. Lindir comes right up to his side, forgoing any greeting to burst, “My lord, we are in danger!”

Too slowly for Lindir’s terror, Elrond looks around at him, donning only a little frown. Puzzled, he parts his lips, but before he can try to soothe Lindir’s nerves as he often does, Lindir snatches up his hand. Lindir drags Elrond to the side at a terribly undignified pace, so he can point down and exclaim, “Look! There is some great beast below us! It is—”

“A whale,” Elrond tells him, short and sweet. Lindir pauses, glancing over, to find that Elrond smiling gently. His hand squeezes Lindir’s reassuringly, and he explains, “It is a creature, yes, although not the kind of ‘beast’ you fear—they are little more than particularly large fish.”

Lindir opens his mouth, spluttering, then looks back to where a long, grey fin has breached the surface—and indeed, it does look like a fin, although Lindir’s never seen any fish even one one hundredth of its size. He’d automatically assumed the worst—that the dark lord had risen again, only to concoct some monstrous thing to chase down the great Elven lords of Middle Earth. But Elrond stands beside him and looks completely untroubled by the mammoth shadow below. “I have not seen one in many years,” he admits, voice soft and far away, as it some times grows when he speaks of Ages past. “My foster-fathers spoke of them to me, and once I did visit Círdan just to see them. They are gorgeous creatures, Lindir, and I am pleased that I can show you them now.”

Lindir follows Elrond’s gaze, and under that magic, the water splashes up, a great, two-pronged tail rising out, smooth and shimmering. It kicks, and the fins turn, running then parallel with the boat, as though drawn to keep pace with Elrond and his whims. It wouldn’t be the first creature to do so. Lindir watches in amazement as a body nearly as long as their ship rises up, skimming the surface. A single fountain bursts near its middle, spraying a light shower, before the creature ducks down again, becoming only a hulking shadow and the very pinpoint of a fin. Lindir doesn’t realize his breath is caught until Elrond squeezes his hand again. 

Lindir murmurs, “I suppose... yes.” Maybe there is some art to them, when he can look at it through Elrond’s eyes—knowing and fond. And it does his heart good to know that there are things so big and yet still benevolent in the world. 

But it makes him fear anew and ask, thinking now towards the land they’ll soon come to: “Are all the animals in Valinor so large?”

Elrond chuckles lightly, shaking his head, and Lindir sighs with immediately relief. “They are their own beings entirely,” Elrond muses, smiling despite Lindir’s evident foolishness, “and hardly a replacement for fish. No, you will still find cats that you can settle in your lap and birds that you may hold in your palm.”

Lindir nods along with it. He can feel his cheeks heating, as they often do when he’s inadvertently displayed his youth and inexperience. “I am sorry. I did not mean to leap to such conclusions...”

“But you are going somewhere new,” Elrond provides, his eyes twinkling with wisdom and his smile full of kindness. “I do not judge you for it, Lindir. If anything, seeing the world through your eyes is often a delight to me, and I would not have chosen any other to have by my side on this journey.”

Lindir’s cheeks flush even darker. He ducks his head to hide his growing giddiness—his lord often leaves him far too happy. Elrond lifts his hand to kiss the back and murmurs, “Come, let us go to the prow. Perhaps we will find a better view of the whales.”

Lindir nods. When Elrond moves, Lindir follows, just like he always will.


End file.
